Maybe That's What Happens When a Tornado Meets a Volcano
by daseyshipper
Summary: "You broke her heart, you know that?" You can't break something that doesn't exist, Dan thought to himself. She's lying to you just like we lie to everyone else. It was my heart, my body, my past, present and future that your daughter shredded in her hands. None of you have the faintest idea…
1. Chapter 1

**NOTES:** This story came into my head after rewatching the episode with Amy's dad in the hospital. With everything we know about Amy and Dan and the way they react to each other, why wouldn't Dan have thrown her family's words in Amy's face and mocked her broken heart? As I continued through the episodes, it became clear that Dan is much more attached to Amy, using a lot of "we" language. So this (significantly AU, but incorporating a lot of canon) backstory evolved, and also got a little dark! Just as a warning: I am going to mention the stray dog in a later chapter, but I don't think it's especially graphic.

My first Veep fic, hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Prologue**

"You broke her heart, you know that?"

Dan didn't react outwardly, but he felt the blood drain from his face as he gritted his teeth. The room felt suddenly colder, more sterile. Amy glared at her mother, willing her to become mute.

 _You can't break something that doesn't exist,_ Dan thought to himself, his steely countenance belying the pains that had begun in his own chest. _She's lying to you just like we lie to everyone else. It was_ my _heart,_ my _body,_ my _past, present and future that your daughter shredded in her hands. None of you have the faintest idea…_

 **Chapter 1**

When she would walk into a room, the lights themselves seemed to shrink back in fear. Though she was only a White House Special Assistant then, the tension and confidence that weighed her down these days seemed then only to prop her up. It made her stride longer, it made her gaze sharper, it made everything about her radiate directly onto the face of one Daniel Egan, fresh-faced communications manager to a recently elected U.S. Representative.

He had first met Amy in D.C., having arranged a photo op for soon-to-be Congresswoman Hayes with the then-president. Acting far above her rank, Amy would make time to shadow anyone who let her, often before they knew she was doing it. She was never shy about shouting orders to anyone she considered beneath her – and in Amy's mind, this automatically included any political staffer who didn't work at the White House. And so it was that Amy's first word to him was…

.

.

"You!"

Dan looked around, startled by the shout. A blonde woman was hurtling herself down the corridor at him, her burgundy dress swishing around her thighs as she tapped away on her phone, glancing up only as needed to not bump into the furniture.

"Me?" he pointed to himself, uncertainly.

"No, the other hayseed who looks like a five-year-old waiting to see the principal. Where is your keeper?"

 _Hayseed?_ He glanced down briefly at his untailored suit. "My … uh, what?"

"Mrs. Hayes," she sighed, already impatient. She was still engrossed in her messages when she came to stand right near the antique chair he had found outside one of the White House private restrooms.

"Oh, she's just, uh, touching up in the bathroom before we get started," Dan said tentatively, standing to greet her. By now he was intrigued and somewhat in awe of the blonde woman, close enough that he could smell almond shampoo and light, deodorant-tempered sweat on her.

Amy's eyes flew up from her phone to land on him, and he was struck by their depth. They were hard and fiery and anxious, with just the slightest tinge of uncertainty. He thought she caught her breath for a second, but then again, that might have been him.

"Uh, my name is Dan, by the way. Dan Egan." Dan broke into a charming smile and held out his hand.

"Amy Brookheimer, Special Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff," she said, shaking his hand cautiously. She said the title as though it had simply always been part of her name, like an absurd hyphenate.

Judith Hayes stepped out of the bathroom then, and Amy greeted her sweetly. Dan shook his head at her metamorphosis, the pleasant tone of her voice as she made polite conversation while they walked the congresswoman-elect to meet the president. They arrived at the Kitchen Garden, where the photo was meant to be taken.

Dan hesitated suddenly, a thought churning in his mind. Turning to his boss, he said, "You know, ma'am, while you certainly deserve recognition for your work on obesity in Ohio, I think that we should take this opportunity to showcase you as an emergent national leader – make this photo more befitting of your rise to Congress. How about something in the Oval Office?"

"That's not possible," Amy cut in immediately. Her expression suggested Lincoln would roll over in his grave were this to take place. He smiled again.

"Ms. Brookheimer… or is it Mrs?" he asked politely. He knew it came off like an asshole question, but he really kind of wanted to know, and he couldn't see her hands, seeing as she had folded her arms across her chest and was shooting daggers at him with those amazing blue eyes.

"Ms.," Amy said, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Ms. Brookheimer, I'm sure you're aware that Mrs. Hayes has had wonderful things to say about the President's views on campaign finance reform throughout her campaign. Certainly, he would like to thank her properly for her support before the final bill is introduced in a few months? And a picture in the Oval could only help to improve Mrs. Hayes' influence in the House, don't you think?"

Amy stared at him for a moment. Dan held his breath, a nervous exhilaration resulting from having done his best impression of a political dick-swinger. _When in D.C. …._

Amy looked back and forth between the two of them, and broke into a professional smile. "I'll check on that for you."

She walked away to find someone more senior, and Dan's body continued to buzz. _What in the hell?_ If you broke it down, or had been paying attention at all, this woman had been awful to him. She hadn't said a single nice word or given any hint of liking him at all, and yet, he just wanted more of her. A familiar but long-buried sensation stirred inside of him.

.

.

Later on, when the Oval Office photo op had been approved, Dan and Amy stood just outside the doorway making sure all went according to plan. Amy was on her phone again, but he could see her out of his periphery shooting an occasional glance at him. He dared not attempt a conversation, lest he cause her to retreat.

Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke. "You're good at this." She sounded impressed, but nonchalantly so.

Dan beamed, lapping up the small scrap of attention he had been fed. "Thanks! You know, I have to tell you… I'm still getting used to all this D.C. politics. I've been doing it for a couple of years in Ohio and in Albany –" he heard Amy snort derisively next to him – "but this is completely different. The down and dirty sleaze is turned up to 11 here." He shook his head in disbelief.

Amy looked at him sideways, contemplating. He looked down at her. "What?"

"Meet me at Lounge 201 at 7:00," she commanded. Turning, literally, on her heel, she walked away to a shared staff office and slammed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

At 6:45 PM, Dan settled nervously onto a stool at the bar. His hands looked pale against the dark cherry wood of the bar, so he could only imagine that his face resembled a freckled version of Casper. He ordered a whiskey and Coke and checked his phone, refreshing the same email account repeatedly and searching for mentions of Amy on various political blogs and rags (nothing very telling). Why on earth was he so nervous?

Dan had never been unpopular with women, but he was also fairly reserved about dating and sex. He didn't have a string of one-night stands or go out clubbing every night, but it's not like he didn't know how to handle female attention. No, it wasn't that. He didn't even know if Amy thought this was a date. Maybe it was strategizing. Maybe she wanted to offer him a job. No, it wasn't the situation that had him tense. It was the way Amy made him feel.

When she had walked away, he had felt a chill run through his body. Other thoughts had cleared themselves from his brain for just the most fleeting moment, and only one thing had flashed in his mind, one crystal clear thought: _I will do anything this woman asks._

If he was honest with himself, it turned him on. Her aloof but self-assured control and his instant and total desire to submit himself to her … it was strange and disgusting, and he fucking loved it.

"Good, you're waiting." Dan turned at the sound of her voice. "It's kind of pathetic, but at least you're not wasting my time."

"Hey," he said, his voice matching the dumbstruck look on his face.

Amy ignored it, throwing her purse down on the bartop. "Whiskey and Coke," she ordered. She didn't really like question marks, Dan thought, amused.

"Good choice" is what he said instead, raising his glass to her. Amy looked taken aback for a minute as she climbed onto the bar stool, but recovered quickly. She was still wearing the burgundy dress, so must have come straight from work. Dan had agonized in his hotel room about what to wear, checking dress codes and websites, and finally settled on dress shirt, tie, no jacket, cuffed up sleeves, and black pants. He feasibly looked like he had come from working, but also meticulously casual and handsome.

They drank and talked about the usual things political staffers talk about: upcoming votes, gossip, their careers. The bar kept the music deliberately moderate to enable such things. Amy alternately relaxed and stiffened, the alcohol exacerbating her normal reactions in either direction. Dan grew more intrigued as the night went on. Whenever she leaned over her drink, her hair would fall in front of her face, and he had an urge to brush it back just so he could keep looking at her. But he didn't, just as he avoided accidentally brushing her fingers across the basket of fries they shared. Partially, it was because this was a dangerous road; partially it was because he half-expected his hand would burst into flames the second he touched her.

He decided later that he hadn't been completely wrong. He could feel the heat flowing through her body, into her fingertips, through his shirt, up his arm, finally enveloping his face as he stared, stunned and unmoving, at the petite but firm hand she had laid on his forearm.

"Let's get out of here."

.

.

There were many things that night that had gone unspoken. When she threw him down on the bed, he didn't need to say anything before he ripped off her shirt. When she moaned from the sensation of his mouth sucking at her breast and, later on, his tongue tickling her clit, he didn't need to ask if she was enjoying herself. When she screamed, guttural and primal, scratching at his abs and tightening around his cock, she could look down at him and see that her orgasm had sent him completely over the edge.

But there were two things Dan did say that he often wished he never had. The first one was, "I need to see you again." The second was, "But I'm engaged."


	3. Chapter 3

Mary-Ann was a classical musician. She had an Irish complexion with dimples in her cheeks, and mousy brown hair that she pushed back with a plastic headband when she played the cello. Her voice was soft and slow, giving the impression that each sentence was carefully crafted to endear itself in just the right way to its listener.

Dan was introduced to her in his fourth year at Cornell by a friend of his in the orchestra. She began to socialize with them, until one day, for some reason, it was just him and Mary-Ann. He asked her to meet again for dinner that weekend, and eventually, it just became clear that they were dating.

Mary-Ann was bright, optimistic, and fun to be around. Dan was happy with her. They graduated together, since she was a year behind him and he had continued on for a Master's degree. She supported his political career when he got his first post-college job in Albany, and auditioned for the Columbus Symphony so that she could move to Ohio with him when he got the job on Judith Hayes' campaign. She wasn't chosen in the first season she went out for and, having missed auditions for other nearby ensembles, had to find work as a music teacher. That was a tough year, with Mary-Ann needing validation, but not willing to say so. They had been dating for just about four years then, and rarely fought. Dan would instigate the only fights they ever did have, usually unreasonably and over something trivial – she was standing too close to him; she was calling him at work to see what he wanted for dinner when he was busy; why did he have to repeat the thing he'd already shouted across the apartment at her twice now?

Mary-Ann's second audition for the Symphony was successful, and after a celebratory dinner, Dan had surprised her with a proposal in the park. He did love her – of course he did. She was supportive and kind, and he liked making her laugh. Those fights were nothing – spats that all couples with work stress have. Besides, he was on a high himself with Judith having just won the election. What better thing to do, he thought, then solidify his perfect career by starting a perfect family?

But the second Dan had laid eyes on Amy, he had struck the match that could burn all of that to the ground. The flame was closing in on his fingertips and he had to decide what to do.

.

.

In retrospect, it had all been planned poorly. Dan had to be in D.C. most weekdays, when Mary-Ann had rehearsals, and she often had performances on the weekends he could get back to Columbus. As a result, they didn't see much of each other, and hadn't decided if or how to make a permanent home in D.C. Dan had planned to get a handle on how things would go after the swearing-in, now just over three weeks away. For the meantime though, that meant that Dan was largely alone.

At first he had been wracked with guilt. He'd sat up in Amy's bed, brown eyes wide, sweat glistening on his chest from a mixture of blissful exertion and mounting panic. He was staring dumbfounded at the condom hanging slightly from the tip of his softening penis when Amy emerged naked from the bathroom.

"I need to see you again," he blurted out, "but I'm engaged."

Amy froze and her eyes seared into him. He became aware that these two statements seemed very contradictory, and he wasn't sure what he had hoped to accomplish.

"I'm so sorry, but I thought you deserved to know. I don't know what happened, I just – "

"Who is she?" Amy interrupted.

Dan blinked. "What?"

"Is it someone in D.C.?"

"Oh. No, it's, uh, my college girlfriend. Fiancée. Or yeah, I guess, girlfriend when we were in college." Dan stopped and swallowed, trying to stop stumbling over his words. "She's a cellist. In Ohio."

Amy's eyebrows relaxed. "Well, then… I don't care if you don't."

Dan looked at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. The chaotic menagerie of thoughts in his head had paralyzed him, and he barely noticed Amy pulling back the covers until she cleared her throat.

"That doesn't mean you get to sleep here."

.

.

After a restless night's sleep that he couldn't blame entirely on his hotel mattress, Dan gave up and stumbled to the bathroom. It was Friday morning now and he would be in D.C. for the next week, working on conveying the right image of the congresswoman-elect through the decoration of her office and _pied-à-terre_ , her website bio, and professional photos. It wasn't exactly what Dan wanted or ought to be doing, but Mrs. Hayes had a small staff and all of this would pay off eventually. Mary-Ann was booked full with performances this weekend, so he hadn't planned to fly back to Columbus, but every time he tossed and turned, Dan changed his mind about whether he needed to see Mary-Ann immediately or completely avoid her until he'd figured things out.

Dan peed, his head leaning against the towel bar over the toilet. Moving to the sink, he rinsed his hands and rubbed some cold water on his face. Finally, shamefully, he met the eyes of his reflection. It was him, but he was different. There was a shadow under his eyes and small pink scratches were visible on his torso. He felt dark and heavy, used and conquered.

What was it exactly that he needed to figure out? He pictured, not for the first time that night, Amy throwing her head back as she came, her body shuddering with the involuntary groan of pleasure escaping her lips. The reflection of his tightening boxers reminded him this was precisely what he needed to figure out. Surely he couldn't be in love with a woman he had just met. He was confusing sex with love, obviously. So what if it was quite definitely the best sex he'd ever had? That wasn't real – he and Mary-Ann were real. _There's nothing wrong with being content and comfortable with someone who supports and cares for you._

But if Dan was being honest… he'd thought about Amy more in the past day than he'd thought about Mary-Ann in the past week. Maybe month. His proposal the month before had felt like more of a logical inevitability than a defining moment.

 _But that's bound to happen – we've been together for almost five years!_ Dan scoffed. _Amy is just new and unknown. I'll get over it,_ he thought, staring resolutely at his reflection.

.

On Sunday, he watched his reflection cum in her mouth while he was handcuffed to the shower curtain rod.


	4. Chapter 4

He felt himself becoming more obsessed with her. He could barely focus on his job, rereading the same documents over and over again and realizing he still didn't know what they said. It was like her image was burned into his eyelids. He craved her presence, finding any excuse to be near her at work. He knew it was unhealthy, so he tried to exorcise her from his mind, though not in the most productive of ways.

He thought that if they could go out together outside of work without sleeping together, he could get to know her better – take the edge off the mystery. They met for dinner one night at a restaurant near the White House. Amy had been wary, but ultimately agreed, noting that there were several power players who went there often.

Dan asked her about her family, and she spoke with not a small amount of condescension about her unemployed and impregnated sister. He told her that he had a brother, who was also engaged. She told him that she didn't want children. He told her he played the guitar in a terrible garage band when he was a teenager. He knew Amy had studied at Penn before moving back to D.C. to work for President Scott's re-election campaign and get her Master's at Georgetown, so he asked her to tell him more about what she did in Philadelphia. She told him she had studied and interned, but her willingness to confide had ended there. Still, he felt like he was making some progress, albeit an inch at a time.

At one point during the night, Amy's boss walked in, the Deputy Chief of Staff for President Scott. He stopped by the table, not bothering to hide his expression of surprise.

"If I didn't know better, Amy, I might think you were a human being with a social life."

Amy pasted on a fake smile just like the one she had used when he'd suggested the Oval Office photo. "Ben, this is Dan Egan, communications manager for Judith Hayes. Dan, this is Ben Cafferty, Deputy Chief of Staff."

Dan stood and the two men shook hands. "Mr. Cafferty, it's a pleasure to meet you. I assure you Amy's social life is second at all times to the needs of the White House."

Ben gave him a crooked look. "That's communications for you, always answering a question nobody asked. You might make it here once your adult teeth come in and you learn how to dress yourself."

Dan smoothed his suit self-consciously as he sat back in his chair.

"We were just discussing the campaign finance bill. Mrs. Hayes is a firm supporter, isn't that right?" she prompted him.

"Absolutely."

"They're all supporters when they're not actually running a campaign," Ben said dismissively. He turned to Amy. "You took care of that personnel issue?"

"The escaped circus freak has been returned to the wild. You will never have to see Jonah Ryan again."

"Music to my ears," Ben said. "Dan," he said and stuck out his hand again, "I expect we'll see you at the swearing-in."

Dan stood to accept Ben's hand and turned on the charm. "Wouldn't miss it, and can I just say, Ms. Brookheimer has been _truly_ magnificent in helping to get me off the ground here. She's a brilliant woman and her insight about D.C. is invaluable."

Ben stared in bewilderment once again as he continued to shake Dan's hand. "Jesus Christ, it's like watching a nature special. Try not to make a mess when you leave the carcass, Ame," he said, giving her a parting touch on the shoulder.

Dan noticed the discomfort on Amy's face when he sat back down, but he wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong. He knew she took her career very seriously, and he had thought she would appreciate being talked up. This, apparently, was incorrect.

She downed the rest of her wine before asking him, "Why didn't you talk more about yourself?"

"That seems a little arrogant, no? I think my work will speak for itself."

Amy burst into a laugh that managed to be both sinister and jubilant. The sound cut through him, making his heart pound. She looked insane and gorgeous. The smooth line of her throat was exposed to him. If they hadn't been in public, he was positive he would have jumped across the table and started biting at her neck. Instead, he laid a hand on hers. The laughter in Amy's voice tapered off as she brought her gaze down to where his hand rested, hot and deliberate, on top of her slender pink fingers.

When the intensity of his stare did not force her to make eye contact with him, he said her name. The sound came from somewhere inside his chest, desirous and authoritative in a way that made it clear that it would be the last word he would say that night.

They left the restaurant together and he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye. The next day, a small gossip piece appeared in Wonkette with a photo credited to Jonah Ryan.


	5. Chapter 5

Dan had expected Amy to be upset about the picture, but she was actually kind of entertained by it. "Staff gossip spreads like herpes around here; I'm getting so much attention," she had marveled when he came by the White House to warn her. (Even as they spoke, he could see whispering interns peeking curiously around the corner of the hallway.) "It's like, regardless of how much they want you to rip people's throats out with your teeth, they still need to reassure themselves that you secretly want to wear a tiara and show off your living room in Vanity Fair."

He didn't need to worry about anyone seeing the picture. His family was so far removed from politics, they barely knew who the Vice President was, and while Mary-Ann encouraged his passion, she didn't care much for the details. If someone were to see it, he could easily play it off as a business meeting. Mary-Ann trusted him implicitly.

He saw Amy again when he brought the website materials to the main Communications office. He had also emailed them, but always good to have a hard copy, just in case, he had said, winking at the web tech and scanning the halls. He heard her before he saw her, on her cell phone outside the office. She was firing off a rapid string of insults to some fool on the other end of the line who, judging by her side of the conversation, had made the poor life choice of telling her that something she wanted couldn't be done. By now, Dan had figured out that if he hadn't been with the congresswoman-elect the first time they met, Amy would have certainly verbally castrated him in a similar fashion. He knew because she had said so the other night, one of her hands choking him while the other grabbed his ass to push him deeper inside of her.

Coming around the corner as she was ending her call, he saw her face was red with a simmering rage.

"And the next time your troglodytic brain tells your flaccid mouth that it's a good idea to speak, I want you to find the stone club you used to get your wife to sleep with you, and then beat yourself with it repeatedly until you remember that you are mistaken."

Dan smirked at her as she hung up. "You forgot to tell him where to shove the club when he was done. People might start to think you're getting soft."

Amy eyed him up and down, ire still flaring beneath her skin. Turning away, she walked down to a private bathroom, opened the door, and threw him a look before closing it behind her.

He followed.

.

.

The way they moved together was so natural and all-consuming, Dan sometimes thought that he existed just to fuck her. He had thrown her up on the countertop and by the time he had pushed up her skirt and shoved her panties down her legs, she had undone his belt and zipper and was pulling his hips forward to meet her. She was so eager and wet that he couldn't contain the moan that echoed against the bathroom walls when he finally slipped inside her.

He caught the reflection in the mirror as he thrust into her, his face buried in her neck. Her skirt was bunched around her waist and he could see her ass bouncing rhythmically on the cold granite slab. He dug his fingernails into the flesh, and Amy cried out. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but instead he fell down to his knees and jerked himself off onto the floor while he made her cum. She tapped a heel near his head as he cleaned it up.

.

.

The last time he saw Amy before he left for the holidays was their third date. At least that's the way he thought of it. A few other staffers turned their heads when the two walked into Lounge 201 again, and Dan felt a surge of pride.

They sat at a table this time, and Amy was more open with him in their conversations and interactions. He knew it was probably because people were interested in their relationship. He had started to get some name recognition himself, and even had to demur when another senator had asked what he could do to take him away from Mrs. Hayes.

"So have you dated a lot of other guys in D.C.?" he asked her tentatively.

"Number one, we're not dating, and number two, no. I don't date D.C. guys."

"How about D.C. women?"

"Nope, not them either. Everyone in this city is an asshole," she asserted, her voice dripping with boredom.

"So you like me because I'm not from here," Dan teased.

"Liking you and wanting your cock inside me are two completely different things – "

"But it is _my_ cock that you want, is what you're saying?" he cut in. She didn't answer, so he forked some steak into his mouth and gave her a self-satisfied smirk.

Amy stabbed at her own entree and ignored him. "Anyway, it doesn't matter if you're from here, because you're here now. It's not a place, it's a cult."

"Well, why are you here then?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she gestured around with her utensils, "I'm just as shitty as everyone else here."

"I don't believe that. Sure, you can be an uptight bitch" – she raised one unamused brow at him – "and you need to be in control all the time, both of which are often very enjoyable for me. But I don't think you're a piece of shit, I think you're a fucking goddess, and that's exactly what makes it so irresistible for you to roll around in the dirt."

Amy's eyes glimmered knowingly. "That's the first time I've heard you curse in normal conversation. I told you, Dan… this place is going to turn you."

Dan leaned forward, a flirtatious grin spreading across his face. "That's the first time you've called me by my name in normal conversation too. So what does that mean?"

Amy's mouth was a straight line as she contemplated the drink she was now holding up in front of her. "Not a goddamn thing," she said.

.

.

It had just started to snow when his plane landed in Albany. Mary-Ann had driven from Columbus so that they would have a car and be able to transport Christmas presents, timing the drive so that she could pick him up. She wore a salmon-colored knit cap, and her pale green eyes lit up when she saw him. He gave her a small smile and a chaste kiss from the passenger seat. They would spend a couple of days with his family before heading to hers.

In the rearview mirror, he could see the Christmas presents piled up in the backseat, neatly wrapped and tied with ribbon. A new electric mixer for his mother, she told him, cigars and a whiskey decanter for his father. New snowboarding gloves for both his brother Hugh and Hugh's fiancée Marlie.

They arrived at his family house, at the top of a wooded hill, having had minimal but pleasant conversation. Mary-Ann got out of the car and had started to gather the presents from the back when she noticed Dan hadn't moved.

"Is everything ok?"

.

Through the windshield he saw a white expanse, dotted here and there with the gray-brown trunks of trees stripped of their leaves. Years ago, a stream of red blood had interrupted the same tranquil canvas. They had dared him to kill the stray dog that they had already kicked into submission. He was six. On TV, nothing ever really died. They handed him a knife. They smiled and laughed at him, telling him how fun it would be. The blood spurted and then ran, across the matted fur, down the snow-covered incline. Underneath his hand, the pulse quickened, lessened, and stopped.

His parents took him to therapists, who concluded he hadn't had the maturity or understanding to know what he was doing. He cried and apologized. He really _hadn't_ understood what he was doing. They put him on medication for years, until he was 14. But the thing he never admitted was that, as much as he had scared everyone else, he had scared himself more. He relived that moment over and over, a deep self-loathing taking the place of everything else he was afraid to feel. Twice he had cut himself, but he stopped when his mother had questioned the scar.

By the time he got to high school, he was cheerful, friendly Dan. Overcompensating, all-American Dan. Charming, sure – but not malicious. His anger was channeled into debate, hockey – always controlled, always productive. He kept himself surrounded by people and distractions until he no longer went to the dark places in his mind every day. He kept faking it until he believed it.

.

He turned to look at Mary-Ann, her nose turning pink as she leaned into the backseat, still looking at him, still grasping the expertly wrapped presents. Light blue paper with white glitter-speckled snowflakes. An electric mixer for his mother and gloves for his brother. They would sit around the fire in Christmas sweaters, and Mary-Ann would help his mother make oatmeal raisin cookies. They would go to her family's house where she and her sister would play the piano and sing carols. Her mother would continue to mention how cute it was that their names rhymed. They would drive back to Columbus and drink hot chocolate, flipping through reruns until the ball dropped in Times Square. He would kiss her like he always did and 12:01 would look exactly the same as 11:59.

She was still frozen there in the backseat, smiling at him.

"Let's not go in yet," he said.

"Ok, where do you want to go?" she asked.

"I don't know. Let's go have a drink. Wherever."

"Alright," she said, climbing back into the driver's seat. "I heard they opened an Applebee's back in town?"

"That'll work," Dan said. They backed down the drive and Dan stared ahead at the muddy tracks the car left in the snow.


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTES:** I chose not to write the breakup scene with Mary-Ann, because the ending of Chapter 5 is supposed to lead you to know what happened from the S4E3 Applebee's reference that Dan made. Also, I think in some meta way, it sort of reinforces how uninteresting the relationship was and how singularly focused he is on Amy. The breakup and holidays is all going to be very trite to Dan compared to his desire to get back to her.

* * *

Amy had never actually given Dan her private cell number, but he wanted to have this conversation in person anyway. He saw her for the first time the day of the swearing-in, in the hallway of the Rayburn Building. He grabbed her arm and excitedly led her into the nearest supply closet.

"I did it," he said, panting with exhilaration. "I broke up with Mary-Ann."

Amy's brow creased in irritated confusion. "Who?"

"My fiancée! I ended it!" Dan was grinning from ear to ear, fighting the urge to spin around with Amy in his arms.

A dead silence hung heavy in the air. Amy's jaw hardened, and just when Dan felt as though he must have been standing in that spot his whole life, she spoke.

"Why in the ever living fuck did you do that?"

.

"Why?" Dan asked incredulously, his smile crumbling. "What do you mean, why? I did it so I could be with you."

Amy did not respond. Her body remained still, with the exception of a very slight shaking in her hands that she tried to hide, but her eyes looked in every direction that wasn't at him. Dan's anxiety rose with every moment. "Amy, please say something," he begged her.

She slowly brought her stony gaze to land directly on him.

"You're pathetic."

Dan felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"You ended your engagement because why? We fucked a few times? You think you're in love with me now? You're weak," she spat out. Her eyes narrowed, bitter and accusing. "You're like all these other cavemen who catch a whiff of pussy and fall to their knees in front of it."

"It's not like that," he started, but didn't know how to finish. He couldn't say he was in love with her – she had already made it clear that was not the right move. But then how else could he explain himself?

"It's always like that, Dan." His name was caustic on her lips.

He spoke, deliberately and slowly, opening his hands to her. "Amy. You are… the only thing… that matters to me in this moment. There is no one – there will never be anyone – who makes me feel the way that you make me feel. I want to rob banks for you. I want to drown in oceans for you. I want to conquer the world so I can bring you the pieces of it."

Amy fired back at him with an icy fury. "You know what makes me feel that way? My job. Why doesn't yours? Have some fucking pride. You could be good at this, you could be a fucking king, but you'd rather be a peasant on a goddamn mountaintop bringing me virgins to sacrifice. I don't need you to conquer the world for me – I am _already doing it_! And when I am done, I will _swim_ in the wreckage! And where will you be? Bending over for some minor state representative because you're too romantic and idealistic to play the game, or ruining your career so you can impale yourself on a white picket fence."

He was growing almost terrified of her, wanting all the words to stop. He backed away, until a supply shelf trapped him, but she continued the assault.

"I don't want to be responsible for you, for what _you_ need to feel! I'm not here to fill up your fucking _shell_ of a life! What happens when I get tired of you? Huh?" she taunted him. "Do you kill yourself? Do you vanish?"

 _Both,_ he thought. "I don't know," he said.

"Well, I guess you're gonna find out," she said, slamming the door.

.

.

The wind whipped the torrential rain into his face. Every so often, lightning cracked the gray sky. His peacoat blew open as he walked, allowing the rain to soak through his white dress shirt and suit jacket. The angry honking of D.C. commuters provided background noise for his walk to the nearest bar.

Whiskey neat.

A thin brunette walked up to him. "Drinking alone?"

He nodded.

"Aren't you dating Amy Brookheimer?"

The undiluted liquor burned his throat.

"I dumped that bitch."

.

He was rough when he fucked her. He told her to say his name. To say it again.

"I'm the fucking king," he said as he came inside her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7/Epilogue**

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Dan stared at Sophie, hesitating. Moments before, Amy had been next to him, that same almond shampoo wafting in his direction, in a scene very reminiscent of their first time together. _Let's get out of here_ , she'd said back then. With Sophie, it was a question; with Amy, a command.

With Amy, there was never really a question, and Dan never really had a choice.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The loss of control Amy felt when she looked into Dan's eyes that first day was enough to send her reeling into an irrational madness.

She was off her game. She wasn't thinking straight. She had even flirted with him, insofar as complimenting someone's professional skill was flirting, which for Amy it was. Then he revealed how clueless he was. _Good, he's just another naïve plaything,_ Amy thought. _I couldn't fall for_ that _. But it's good enough for the night._ And in sex, she could regain her advantage. Mostly. When Dan told her he was engaged, she was oddly relieved. It put a limit on him. It made him a scumbag cheater – another reason she would definitely never fall for him.

Amy had spent so many years being disappointed and abused and betrayed and not taken seriously by men. When she was a child, the boys made fun of her for being smart. Amy tried not to raise her hand so much. In high school, despite being indeed very smart, her government teacher saw no reason to allow Amy to participate in debates if she was going to be "aggressive" about it. Amy tried not to be aggressive. Her high school boyfriend had attempted to sexually assault her – except that Amy was told that this couldn't possibly be true. They were dating, after all, and you can't assault your own girlfriend. He was just "being a guy."

In college, she had two boyfriends. One of them she had largely ignored for her studies and internships. She found him having webcam sex, on her computer, with his ex. The next one she had been utterly devoted to, deferring to his interests, attending all his plays, sometimes even pulling all-nighters on her work so that it didn't interfere with their time together. While trying to put together a montage of his performances, she found a tape of him "performing" with his co-star.

She never blamed the women. She always thought that was unfair – why should someone else be responsible for your boyfriend's relationship?

And for the first time, she didn't blame herself either. She had spent her life being so many different versions of herself for other people, and it was never enough. She was done. From then on, she refused to be vulnerable, refused to stifle her ambition or intelligence for anyone else's comfort, refused to conform to society's expectations of her as a woman, and refused to give herself fully to anyone.

She knew it wasn't necessarily rational behavior to guard herself in the extreme way that she did. But the truth is, people aren't rational and motivations don't always make sense.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

A string of conquests Dan forgot, sometimes even while he was looking at them, had followed that first brunette, and by now Dan had slept his way through half of D.C. Not to mention screwing Marlie the night before she married his brother. (He hadn't actually initiated that, but he hadn't turned it down. Because he didn't care anymore. Because he was drunk. Because he'd seen a picture of Amy in Politico that day and he was stuck in Albany and fucking Marlie was the closest thing to killing a dog that he could do and still be considered sane.)

He had worked with Congresswoman Hayes for a while, making connections wherever he could, and learning the ins and outs. He cozied up to Carol Hallowes when he heard about the job opening in her mother's office. That job had become available when the Senator's communications manager _somehow_ ended up in the wrong car from the airport and missed an important press conference. By that time, Amy was working for Vice President Meyer and not Senator Meyer, so they had not run into each other much. He'd always been surprised that Amy had left the White House proper, but it _was_ a higher position and she must have known about Selina's presidential aspirations.

And then one day there they were, the Meyer entourage, and he knew he had to make his move. He'd been buttering up the president's staff before that, but the Veep's office was a good enough next step, and he was ready now. Ready for ascension. Ready for Amy.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

 _I cannot believe you are dating your boss' daughter._

 _She's fun, she's sexy… she can advance my career._

 _That's the one… that's the one._

Many people had taken it upon themselves to tell Amy about the tour of Washington undertaken by Dan Egan and his penis. They told her because they thought she was his scorned ex, unceremoniously dumped by a low-level staffer, albeit a pretty cute one. When she found out this was the story he was telling people, she didn't deny it. She even threw in some details. Being the dumpee had actually brought her quite a bit of sympathy from female staffers, several solicitations from male staffers, and a good amount of reprieve from her family's insistence that she have a love life. Ben even told her how much he loved her new reputation as a "normal" lovesick woman, because it made it that much more effective when she tore the other employees a new asshole. And she did do that, often, because you know, she just couldn't help it – she was angry about her breakup.

Amy had strategically avoided Dan for years, and no one really questioned it. Once she started working for Selina in the Senate, she had little to do with staffers from the House, and she didn't really go out much. Or have friends. So when she saw him that day in Hallowes' office, it made her insides churn. She felt ethereal and panicked, like she was having a very realistic dream about being buried alive and trying to claw her way to the surface. But she didn't let any of that show. She was a professional. She reminded herself that she was, actually, the one who ended things.

They were in front of other people, and she kept her cool, but she was intrigued. So she tested him – _Do you like working for Hallowes?... He calls that the Leviathan._ But any trace of the old Dan – the Dan she had wanted to hate for being everything she never wanted to be again – had disappeared. In his place was someone gunning for Mike's job and grabbing coffee pods away from unassuming Gary. Someone who was a lot like her when they'd first met.

When he told Selina the two things she had done wrong in New Hampshire, she was so taken aback, the only thing she could think to do was call him a shit. And he was a shit! He was a shit trying to get back into her life and fuck it all up and do it better than her! When he revealed he had leaked the Hallowes' story about Rapey Reeves, she was genuinely shocked. He had smirked at her – "What?" Like a challenge. Like a "fuck you." All she had was a weak shot about foreplay.

She was off her game again.

Then Selina hired him and Amy had said anything she could to try to get him out of the office. But Selina wants what Selina wants.

 _And that's the one,_ she thought during Selina's fundraiser. That was the Dan she'd told him to be. That was the Dan she had helped to create.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Amy hadn't created him. She hadn't broken him either. She'd brought him back to life.

The real Dan was a depraved son of a bitch. And this Dan was not going to get on all fours and rush to Amy's bed because she crooked her finger at him once. He was going to make her beg for him, ache for him, wait for him. The way he had done.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Their time together under Selina was a weird concoction of familiarity, competition, sexual tension, and stubborn restraint. It was undeniable that their chemistry benefited them both, professionally speaking, but any time either of them showed a hint of personal affection or weakness toward the other, it had to be destroyed. It was a cat and mouse game, and Dan and Amy could play for years, except she was never quite sure which one she was.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

He had toyed with her a couple of times since they started working together, but the denouement was that day after they spoke on CNN. _Why not kill two birds with one stone?_ he'd thought. Try to get the access he needed, and see if she took his bait. She didn't beg him the way he wanted, but he knew he had her nearly where he wanted her. The thought of Amy getting all worked up while he withheld himself from her got him off for days.

There was one time, one almost slip-up, in the parking lot during his relaunch party. Her unrestrained anger was turning him on like a primal Pavlovian trigger, and Dan was pretty sure he would have slammed her up against a concrete pillar and started devouring every inch of her if the police had not intervened.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Ben had figured it out the other day. Or at least, that was when he finally told her he knew. She asked why he thought that she was the one who dumped Dan.

"The Dan that exists now is a complete shitstain. He'd watch his own mother go to jail if it meant he came out smelling like slightly more pleasant shit. But when he testified about the data breach, he defended you. When you left, he got you a job. And you told me he tried to get you to quit with him before Hughes resigned. They tell you you gotta kiss a lot of babies in this business to get ahead, but Dan would just as soon nail the babies together to make a ladder if it meant he got to the top before everyone else. So tell me, why does he keep offering you the ladder?"

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

He knew sometimes he was giving away too much. Like when he'd gone to the hospital with her, or helped her with Jonah, or needed her to be near him at PKM. It was all work, though, he rationalized. They worked well together, and his career came first.

Except Ed wasn't work.

He knew it wasn't serious. He knew she didn't love Ed, or even hate him. Ed was just her fake smile or the stock photo of someone's grandma on her desk – a half-assed badge of normalcy that she needed to display so people would shut the fuck up. But even knowing all of that, it still made him insane to think about that nine-foot cretin touching her. It made him even more insane to think that he was just Ed to her back then.

And even if it was for work, he hates that he came to Nevada because she called. But he loves that she's waiting for him. So he goes with Sophie.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"The way he feels about you is the only constant from the Dan I met eight years ago. I met him back when he was still wet behind the ears from his mom instead of Danny Chung's jizz, remember?" Amy nodded reluctantly, but remained silent. "Maybe it _was_ this fucking town that changed him, I don't know. I mean, when I first got here, I was saying really stupid shit too, like… 'please' and 'thank you'."

Amy smiled wryly and Ben continued.

"But it's more likely that what happened was you. You think everyone who wants to hug you is just trying to get around there to stick a knife in your back, so as soon as they come within arms' length, you get your own knife and slash their throat, thinking you showed them. You think you protected yourself and that you did yourself a favor, because even if this one didn't have a knife, you just _know_ that the next one will. But in the meantime, you're just leaving bodies and becoming more and more like the things you hate."

.

.

So now she's sitting in this hotel room in Nevada, waiting. Because they're the only ones here, and because she's drunk, and because watching Dan dominate the recount room is like her sick personal aphrodisiac, and because he had his shirt cuffs rolled up, holding a whiskey in his strong, dark-haired hands just like that first time, and because she's so tired of not having him, and because maybe Ben's right, and maybe this time there won't be a knife.

 _Fin._


End file.
